I bet you thought you had seen the last of me. Yeah, well, I thought so too. The second we landed on Earth I had made a run for it. Some stupid, irrational part of me had this crazy thought: If I acted normal, Alana would leave me alone. Obviously, I was out of my mind. Luckily, Kail grabbed me and pulled me back to the rest of the group. As soon as we got all of our things together, we heard someone calling our names. It was Justine. She was in her private jet, waving to bring us over.

Only a idiot would have followed her. Or a group of desperate teenagers. Alana had just landed, 50 feet away, in full Shrek form. Justine’s private jet seemed heaven sent. We pprivate-jetiled in and with a knock on the cockpit door from Justine,
we were off, leaving Alana in the dust.

Flying away from where we landed was like taking a breath after being submerged under water for an eternity. It was the first time in a while that none of us were panicked or, in Brad’s case, crying. We sat down in Justine’s luxurious chairs and many of us passed out from exhaustion. We were finally experiencing peace, however short our rendezvous with peace may be. As my companions sleep, I am here, writing, putting my thoughts into this blog, now that I have the time. I don’t know when I will next be able to do this, seeing as Alana may just never stop.

Justine’s pilot has just turned on the speakers, possibly to announce that we have arrived in a secret hiding place.

“Justine,” he said, “I see something flying behind us.

Kail ran into the cockpit to look at the screen. I leaned forward to catch a glimpse, myself.


I passed Kail as I ran into the cockpit and he ran out. It was with a panicked look on his face. He sat down in the first available seat, next to Brad, and put his head between his knees. I stayed in the cockpit, watching. It has now been forty minutes of nothing but us flying at full speed and Alana keeping up behind us, no effort from her. It seems this will simply be a race of who can last longer. I had sat down in the copilot seat and am now attempting to start up writing again. Maybe I should just take one more loobvfhidszdjk ivjfdnc



Perhaps I should explain what happened then. It has been two weeks since the accident. Only now have I just remembered that this blog exists, and that I need to tell the world of Alana’s crimes. I had just looked up to the screen, when I saw Shreklana open her mouth. From it, came a gigantic missile, that crashed into the plane. My head had smashed into the keys from the impact, and I had blacked out. It must have only been for a couple seconds, but I came to with blood in my eyes and alarms and screams all around. I managed to stumble into the main area to take in the sight around me. Brad and Kail were holding each other, Justine was hugging Brandon, despite not knowing him at all. Both were screaming. Tiffano and Alex were each on opposite sides of the plane, huddled up in little balls in between seats. All this, I saw in an instant. I turned back around, to find the pilot. Dead. The ground couldn’t have been more than a hundred feet away. In my panic, I pushed the pilot aside, and somehow managed to keep us from being completely crushed against the ground. By some twisted mercy of the gods, we were headed to an empty field. I got the plane horizontal. We hit the ground. I was pitched all the way to the back of the plane. Hitting the wall, everything went dark for the second time in a few minutes.

I opened my eyes to see Brandon staring back at me. Except he wasn’t. His eyes were open, but Brandon was not looking. Him and Justine were slumped against each other, each eternally captivated by something the rest of us would not see until we met them again. I backed away, and hit Kail’s leg. I glanced up to see him sobbing. It was Brad, his eyes closed in the dreamless sleep, never to open again. Tiffano and Alex emerged from where they hid, and we all gathered around Kail, me on the floor, Tiffano and Alex standing, and Kail, crouched over the motionless shell that once was Brad.

These are the crimes of the woman named Alana. Forget her invasion of privacy, forget that Justine was a nuisance. The deaths of four people were her crimes. The death of the pilot, whose name I never knew, the deaths of Justine, Brandon, and Brad. They are her crimes. They are the reason she deserves, no, needs to be punished.


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